


Upside Down

by WarriorWastingTime



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Bittersweet, F/F, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorWastingTime/pseuds/WarriorWastingTime
Summary: A quick piece about what was going through Ellie's head at the end of TLoU2. Major spoilers.
Relationships: Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us)
Kudos: 14





	Upside Down

**Author's Note:**

> I finished the game a few days ago and have a lot of feelings. I think, as much as people don't want to hear this, they showed us the happiest ending Ellie could have had while staying true to the narrative.

It had to be done… I repeated that to myself every step of the way to Santa Barbra. Every time the nagging voice in the back of my head told me I was being selfish. Every time I let the painful throb of hunger in my gut tilt me against a nearby tree and struggled to find the will to right myself.  
  
Now that it’s finally over I just feel numb. I barely remember where I docked the boat or the buildings I passed and the infected I killed. Instead I remember that night. The last one, when I had lain awake by Dina’s side in our bed. That night I had wished Jesse was still alive more than ever. She deserved someone who could have been there with her the way I couldn’t be even as my fingers brushed the hair from her forehead.  
  
A stronger woman would have put up a better act. Would have held in shallow breaths until she was safely locked behind the bathroom door. Would have bit her lip rather than screamed when those last fucking moments with Joel came rushing back.  
  
I think Dina knew I was going to leave before I did. Before Tommy showed up and gave me a direction to stare vacantly in. She always saw right through me. As difficult as it had been for me to think that I had doomed humanity. As sick and as ugly as I had felt, it was nothing compared to the way I felt in that house pretending everything was ok.  
  
The way she did it, that Abby girl. Stood over him, the fury in her eyes. Every blow raining down with so much purpose and intent. I didn’t know anything about her, but I knew from the way she did it that it meant something to her. We live in a world where someone like her could stand there and beat Joel to death with _conviction _. She had hit him until the wrinkle smack in the center of his eyebrows, the one that had only grown deeper the longer he knew I couldn’t stomach to look him in the eye, was filled in with his blood. How could I have hated the man who had looked at me and thought I was worth sacrificing the world for, when cold blooded killers like Abby were part of that world? It wasn’t fair that she took him before I realized, and before I got the opportunity to tell him, that I understood.  
  
I don’t have a plan now, but my body seems to know what direction it wants to go. I’m not surprised when I eventually find myself standing in the bedroom of our old home. I’m not surprised that Dina’s not here. I’m glad she didn’t wait for me.  
  
My body protests when I settle in the chair in the study, but I have enough energy to pick up the guitar. I slowly, softly start to play that familiar melody. Only it’s not quite recognizable for what it used to be. In that moment panic grips me, and tears fall down my face as I question, not for the first time, if I shouldn’t have let her go.  
  
I let my remaining fingers still, close my eyes and look inside myself at the flashes of Joel and Dina and Jesse that are inescapable. I look for Abby there. For the flashes of her that had kept me up the last night I spent in this house. I see instead someone gaunt and desperate, wildly cropped hair swaying almost gently as I hold her down under the ocean.  
  
When I open my eyes, I begin the process of twisting the tuning pegs and loosening the strings. On autopilot I remove them one by one and tension them back with the thinnest closest to me. I flip the guitar upside down and let my good hand rest on the fret board. The first three chords sound somehow worse than they had only minutes before, as I struggle to place down each finger individually in the right spot. This at least calms me. I know with certainty that I can teach this hand to play, just as Joel had all those years ago. And maybe it won’t be the same… but maybe it’ll get better.__


End file.
